Dear Rita,

Carolyn and I have been seeing a couple’s therapist since Carolyn’s hip surgery. It’ll be a year in December and I’m thinking that will be the stopping point. Anyway, in the meantime, I’m also doing individual’s with Sabrina. Both of them have me do “chair work” (their words) where I “conjure” (my word) my dead loved one and speak to them as if they were present. If we’re to take the physicists liberally, we might say this is reasonable as our existence seemed so entangled. As if we can still talk side-by-side or face-to-face. Perhaps we don’t even have to come up with reasons to make it feel real or backed by some equation or description of the universe. Maybe I can just act like you’re still there and believe I can speak to you through prayer or intentional thought.

”Are you still there…” (in the robot voice from Portal), I ask you. At first, I hear no response. During chair work, however, the therapist asks, “I know it’s difficult, but what is she feeling. What does she look like?” Tears immediately erupt from my eyes, streaming down my face. I see you. I hear you. I feel you. “Oh Rita,” I say to myself. “Oh, Rita, Rita, Rita.” Three times seems fitting.

Rita, I am going to ask you a favor. Keep looking out for Emily and mom. They need your strength right now. I think you’re someone that can help them. Of course, I’m certain you’ve already seen Feja. As you observe from the very frabric of the universe. Cradling her through an omniscient force. I think Emily and I have even seen your face in Feja. You must have met Ivy already as well. I have these vague but extremely strong emotions when I see their faces. As if seeing Joe and Rita’s baby face from 30 years ago. How is it so embedded in my mind? Why do I feel so certain I’ve seen this face before. Can you really be there? Is it really you? Or just some vague similarity…

Anyway, Rita, I’m writing this letter for my own therapy. I think the point of all this is to refuse through action and belief, that you are gone forever. You really don’t have to be gone forever unless we start believing it. You can still be with us, and perhaps, are already with us constantly. In the grains of sand on the beach. In the morning as the sun splits the blinds. In the evening as the moon glows across the water. In our cup of coffee and our glass of water. You are remote and near at the same time. In some quantum state, entangled with the rest of us, forever.

I gotta wrap up. Catch you next time, Rita.

Sincerely,
Alex